


Blood on the Crown

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Graphic Violence, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 12:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: The relationship between the mythics and the humans have been fraught with tension ever since the start of time – one that will inevitably culminate in bloodshed, and it is up to nine individuals to see it through to the end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlightlessEggsxo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlightlessEggsxo/gifts).



> Hello!
> 
> Please refer to 'Chapter 2' for descriptions/traits about each the mythical race I have included + the boys' physical appearances + other details!
> 
> Prompt: _Like, a council (OT9 EXO) for mythical creatures and such. Different seats for the types of creatures (ie. Spirits, werewolves, demons, vampires, witches, other) that work to keep the peace with the humans. Sehun takes the witch spot under someone else’s suggestion (like Yixing’s or something). He is a lot more powerful than anyone really knows but it doesn’t show. Some tension with the humans because of lack of trust, maybe some tension within different mythical species that the council needs to take care of?_

Midnight comes and goes with the tick of a second hand. The building is quiet, save for the muted echoes of his footsteps as he strides down the stone hallway from his office to Yixing’s. He finds the elf sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, his beloved bow resting by a knee as a quiver of arrows lie across his lap. Sehun leans against the doorway, watching as Yixing cleans his arrows, as gentle and meticulous as ever.

“Are you still working?” Yixing asks. Long – much longer than the average human’s – fingers pause, fingertips cradling the slim carbon shaft of an arrow, and he glances up from his task. “It’s late, is it not?”

“You’re still here,” Sehun points out. He holds up a few files and gestures to Yixing’s desk. “I’ll set them there, okay?”

A ponytail bobs in acquiescence, firelight bouncing off crimson strands.

Yixing’s office is possibly the homiest room in this building, cold floors covered by handwoven rugs and a bunch of extraordinarily large pillows. Several lived-in armchairs are scattered throughout, and the fluorescent lights are almost never in use – Yixing prefers the natural light of the sun when it’s available, and firelight when it’s not.

He sets the files down next to where Yixing’s pet owl, Ivy, is busy picking at a bowl of worms.

“Going home?”

Sehun hums noncommittally. “Not quite yet. I’ve been putting off strengthening the safety charms around this place – I should really get that done.” He turns on his heel, the untucked, wrinkled panels of his dress shirt fluttering with the movement. A lock of hair falls into his eyes, slightly limp with the amount of physical activity he’d done today, and Sehun pulls it back to tuck it beneath the hair tie wrapped around the rest of his hair.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Yixing chastises, sliding a clean arrow into the quiver and pulling out a dirty one. “You had a bunch of meetings today _and_ you helped out with Jongdae’s training. Tomorrow isn’t going to be any easier.”

“Do humans ever make anything easier?” Sehun spares Yixing a tired glance over his shoulder before he waves and exits the office.

It’s a short wait for the elevator, and the metal doors slide open to reveal Jongin slumped in a corner, looking just as tired as Sehun feels. The vampire’s got a duffle bag hanging off a shoulder, irises hidden behind thin eyelids.

“Hey,” Sehun says as he steps in. The button for his floor is already lit up. “Blood errands?”

Jongin groans at him, finally cracking open an azure eye. “Yes. Here’s a tip: don’t ever believe it when a vampire tells you they’re not lazy. Why are you still here?”

“Paperwork,” Sehun answers, staring up at the slowly changing numbers, “and I have to reinforce the charms.” The exhaustion in his voice is evident, and it’s not surprising that Jongin’s able to pick up on it.

“Do them tomorrow,” he suggests, repositioning the strap on his shoulder. “You look like you’re about to drop dead on your feet. Hell, I don’t have to sleep and I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t think I’ll have any time tomorrow,” Sehun sighs, “not with that council meeting we have. Those last for bloody hours, and right after I have to leave with Baekhyun to tend to some of the recently released prisoners. Not to mention that my people have been demanding for an address – so that’s something else I’ll have to get started on, too.”

The top floor of the council’s building is the only floor above ground, and consequently Sehun’s favourite floor. It’s less constricting, and it’s always that much easier to breathe when he’s up here. There’s a reason why he’d fought tooth and nail for the only office located on this floor – Minseok had almost placed a curse on him out of spite.

Up in the sky, the moon is barely visible behind thick clouds, the curved sliver simply a vague, blurred shape.

“Go home.” Sehun prepares himself to argue, but Jongin continues before he gets a chance to. The faint moonlight glints off the tips of his fangs as he speaks, sharp points leaving just the slightest dents in his pillowy bottom lip.

“Get some sleep. I’ll make up an excuse for you at the meeting tomorrow if necessary. The humans don’t deserve half of what we’ve given them over the years, don’t give them your sanity, too.”

With a flick of his fingers in farewell, Jongin grabs onto his duffle and steps through the doors. Sehun watches him go and sees the faint sheens of the safety charms rippling minutely when Jongin passes through them. The vampire sinks low, then springs up into the air with a dull pop of air. A second later, and all that remains of his presence is the slight ruffling of leaves adorning the canopy of trees that surround them.

Sehun forces a breath of air out of his lungs and trudges back into his office. His staff rests by his desk, and Sehun lets out another sigh when his eyes land on it. He needs a hot shower and sleep _now_ , but he knows if he goes to bed without getting something done, he won’t be able to fall asleep. Curse that blasted, overactive mind of his.

“I’ll compromise,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll reinforce half the charms, then do the other half tomorrow.” Hand outstretched, he waits until his staff flies into his grip before turning around and heading out into the quiet night.

 

 

 

  
It’s a bad habit, Jongin knows, constantly running the flat of his tongue across the points of his fangs. He’s cut himself more than a handful of times, but it’s a quirk that he can’t seem to beat. The door to the meeting room opens, and the human emissary steps in, flanked with two bodyguards. Jongin wants to scoff – those bodyguards would be absolutely useless if it ever came down to it.

He watches contemptuously as the humans take their positions around the table. Next to him, Minseok’s drumming his fingers on the surface, those sharp, black nails clicking steadily against the polished wood. The demon’s doing it on purpose, Jongin knows, to drive the humans a little stir-crazy. It seems to work, especially when one glances up skittishly and locks eyes with Jongin – he blanches at the sight of Jongin’s eyes, wide pupils surrounded with a piercing blue. Unhuman.

There’s an empty seat, something that the emissary notices instantly.

“Where’s the witch?”

“He’s a mage,” Junmyeon says curtly, staring at the emissary over his large spray bottle. Something twitches in the human’s temple, and Jongin can’t help but run his tongue over his fangs again.

“Be that as it may, he’s late.”

“He has something important to do,” Jongin speaks up, leaning back in his seat with an air of disdain.

“Such as? I doubt there’s anything more important than a meeting like this?”

“A meeting where you humans spend hours trying to convince us that we are the dangers to humanity when in actuality, _your_ kind is the mastermind behind genocide and mass destruction? You’d be surprised.” Jongin resists the urge to snarl, but his fangs elongate just enough to make the humans squirm. Baekhyun snickers, the glee evident in those bright, mischievous eyes.

Yixing clears his throat and leans forward, hair spilling over a sharp shoulder. “Can we get started, please? I don’t know about you lot, but the rest of us have a lot of things to do.”

The three humans exchange heavy glances before the emissary finally sets a briefcase down on the table and unlocks it.

“I expect the witch to be briefed on –”

“For the thousandth time, I'm a _mage_ , you thick-headed dunce. If you wish to control us so badly, you might want to learn who exactly it is that you're dealing with.”

The door slides shut behind Sehun and the man sweeps through the room, ashen hair flowing down his back like smoke. He fixes the emissary with a dirty look and settles down into his seat, staff floating behind him like a guardian.

Jongin looks over at him and grins when Sehun gives him a wink. The thin lines of his scars pull tight with the movement.

“Better start before he hexes you,” Jongin drawls, relishing in the flinch that crosses the emissary’s face.

 

 

 

  
_Absolutely ridiculous_ , Sehun fumes, stalking out of the meeting room once the blasted humans have taken their leave. His shoulder collides with Chanyeol’s on the way out, the sheer force of it sending the dragon, a large man in his own right, stumbling back into the table.

“Someone should go talk to him.”

That just pisses him off even more, and he sends a minor hex back into the room in retaliation. Someone yells, someone swears, and Sehun slams the door shut behind him with a flick of his index finger.

It’s always the same bullshit that he and his people face – whenever something unexplainable happens, they’re the ones at fault, _they’re_ the ones that the humans blame, _they’re_ the ones asked to atone for sins they have never committed. For Christ’s sake, is it too hard for them to understand that the mages aren’t the only ones able to wield magic? As if that isn’t bullshit enough, the humans never turn the blame onto the one race that they should be focused on, the one race that actively consumes human souls – the goddamned demons. _Fucking cowards, scared to be the next ones dying at the hands of fingers and poisoned teeth._

The truce between the humans and the mythics is a delicate one, fragile enough to stop Sehun from exploding and potentially blast half of humankind to shreds. In the beginning, he’d done his very best to adhere to the humans’ demands, desperate for a world where he could live without looking over his shoulder in fear of being hunted by those who viewed them as freaks.

He was naïve – he realises that now. He was driven by hope, hope that equality could actually be reached and he’d be able to walk through town without being on the receiving end of death stares. Sure, it was the only way, especially when fighting them is impossible. They might have magic on their side, but their numbers are terribly low; the firepower that the humans have at their disposal would have wiped them out.

Now, however, with the formation of the Mythic Coalition, fighting back might actually work. It’s an idea that has popped up into Sehun’s mind more than a few times, usually in the dead of the night when he’s unable to fall asleep. But he never brings it up – the coalition is more than just his one race, and there are eight others to consider.

The elevator doors open to reveal sunlight flooding the foyer, just slightly distorted from passing through all the protection spells that Sehun had finished reinforcing in the morning. He can just make out the humans’ car through the trees, a black spot in the horizon that disappears after a few seconds.

He lets go of his staff the second he’s in his office, sinking into his chair as he watches it float over to its corner. The scar around his neck itches, a sure sign of stress, and Sehun exhales at the thought of reporting back to his people with yet another accusation by the humans.

A sharp rap sounds on his door.

“What,” he snaps, staring daggers through the thick glass.

“How’re you doing?”

It’s Jongdae, a literal angel. Always quiet, always willing to listen, always wanting to help. Alas, there are times where his presence grates on Sehun’s nerves – feeling anger around Jongdae seems wrong, and sometimes Sehun really just wants to throw things at walls and swear at everyone who walks by.

“Could be better,” Sehun replies, staring at Jongdae’s silhouette. His halo is a little off-kilter. “They’re asking me to do the impossible.”

“We know.”

“My people didn’t kill those humans.”

“We know.”

“It’s probably Minseok’s people that did it.”

“We know.”

Sehun has nothing else to say to Jongdae, so he just waits until the angel walks away and leaves him alone with his thoughts. He suffers through fifteen minutes of stress-inducing thinking, periodically itching at his neck, before someone else knocks on the door.

“What now,” he groans, head flopping backwards until he’s staring up at the ceiling. A few strands of hair end up in his mouth, and Sehun splutters miserably until they’re out.

“Want some help bullshitting an address to those idiots?”

That has Sehun snorting despite himself. “Yeah, I guess I could use some help. Come in.”

Jongin steps in and takes the chair that Sehun gestures to. He glances at the messy stack of blank papers sitting in front of Sehun and quirks a brow. “Got nowhere, huh?”

“Hard to get somewhere when you’re being accused of murder for what’s probably the eighth time in three months. I’m running out of ways to subtly say: ‘You’re all a bunch of ignorant assholes and this is an incredibly fake apology from a really pissed off mage', and it gets exponentially harder each time. Plus, it’s not as if I can turn on the demons; not while we’re in this shitfest of a Coalition, anyway.”

He hears a chuckle, and the orbs of light that float above him seem to tremble in response.

“I have a few choice insults that I’ve been dying to use,” Jongin says. “Wanna hear them?”

Sehun takes a breath, sits up straight, and pulls his hair back into its signature messy bun.

“Your neck’s red,” Jongin comments after a beat. Electric eyes fixate on the line of his scar, tracing it around his neck. Sehun can practically feel the heat of his gaze seep into the jagged edges.

“Compulsion,” he explains, clearing his throat and fighting the urge to scratch again. “I itch it when I’m stressed.”

Jongin doesn’t seem to have a reply for that, so Sehun busies himself by picking up a pen and slapping it down on the table in front of him. “So, uh, what are those insults? I’ll probably end up using all of them if you don’t mind.”

 

 

 

  
Tomorrow marks the fifth year since the establishment of the Mythic Coalition. As he steps foot into his coven, Jongin realises that the Coalition has done nothing but pile the bitterness and miseries of nine different mythical races into one big cesspool of fuckery. Of course, that’s not to say that they didn’t _try_ to make the Coalition successful – they’ve drafted countless policies meant to help diminish the huge divide between their races and the human race, but the humans have turned a blind eye to all of them.

The Coalition did manage to do one thing: at least their numbers are no longer dwindling at a rapid rate. The merpeople were almost facing extinction by the time the Coalition came into play – the death of their King at the hands of human fishermen had dealt the race a devastating blow. Junmyeon had been the only one in his family left and was one of the few mers of royal descent that still carried enough royal blood in their veins to ascend the throne. His first step on solid land was to meet up with the other representatives of the Coalition, and Jongin distinctly remembers the look on his face when he found out what the other races had gone through as well.

None of their races, apart from perhaps the demons, are malicious by nature. Jongin knows, however, that every single one of them has thought about waging war with the humans at one point or another, thoughts that have only intensified with every passing year.

“So what’s the deal with the policy? Did they go for it?”

“What do you think, Oph?” Jongin makes a beeline for his room, waving away the glass of blood offered to him by a young vampire. The mere thought of those damned humans has his blood boiling once more. “I’m surprised you still have hope – I’ve given up a long time ago.”

Ophelia trails after him, her presence one of the few that’s able to keep him amenable when he doesn’t want to be. They were both sired by the same vampire within years of each other, and thus adjusted to life as vampires together. She was the one who helped him with his first kill and the one who helped him learn how to control his newfound strength and ability to fly. Ophelia is like an older sister to him, in a sense.

His room is surprisingly messy – when people think of vampires, they think of sleekness and ornateness, black chrome and red velvet, but that’s not quite true. Jongin might dress like the typical vampire, what with his pressed suits and carefully coiffed hair, but his room perfectly mirrors his physical age of twenty-four. His bed is unmade, half the pillows are on the floor, and his desk is a conglomeration of… stuff. He’s got posters of obscure, alternative bands stuck to his walls, an electric guitar collecting dust in the corner, and a bunch of photo frames scattered over various shelves.

Ophelia clicks her tongue and bends to gather up a handful of clothes. “You’re a mess,” she chides, throwing the ball into the laundry basket. Slightly petulant, Jongin fixes her with a look as he shrugs out of his suit jacket – he drops that onto the floor in front of him. She rolls her eyes and picks that up, too.

“This Coalition is stupid, Oph,” Jongin sighs, flopping back onto his bed. “It’s just a way to let those pesky humans keep an eye on us and use us as scapegoats.”

He hears her bustling about, probably picking up the rest of his discarded clothes.

“We can’t not be a part of it,” she says. “We’re dying out as it is.”

Right, Jongin thinks bitterly, if it weren’t for the humans and their ability to weaponize UV light, they’d still be a free race.

“They haven’t been harassing us recently though,” Jongin mumbles, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Sehun’s been getting the brunt of it. Apparently, over a few dozen humans have gone missing, and they’ve left no traces of where they might have gone or who might have taken them. Naturally, the government chose to blame the magic wielders – because who else is able to make people disappear? Now, they’re demanding for full submission of their race.”

Ophelia pauses, and Jongin senses her looking in his direction.

“Submission? They’re going to kill them,” Ophelia says, hushed. “He can’t submit –”

“He knows,” Jongin interrupts. He sits up and waits until Ophelia settles into the chair by his desk before he continues speaking. “Of course he knows. He’s not going to give in that easily, but it’s not as if he can fight back either.”

He thinks back to that time in Sehun’s office over a week ago, recalling the sheer amount of tension bleeding out of the man and how a few displayed vases had exploded out of nowhere as they tried to formulate a decent response. They were there for hours, only stopping when Sehun let out three yawns in the span of one minute.

By the time Jongin stood up to leave, the man’s throat was flaming red.

“I’ve read through his draft, but I don’t know if it’ll be enough to get them off his case. His race doesn’t have much left to bargain with, not after years of this abuse.”

“What is he going to do?”

Jongin stares at her and tries to come up with a decent response that might appease her, but fails spectacularly.

“I don’t know.”

 

 

 

  
Standing right in the middle of his office, exhausted and stressed, Sehun stares down at the mess of papers strewn across his desk and feels the will to live slowly seep out of him. He’s responsible for his people – despite never having asked to shoulder such a responsibility – and it’s starting to feel as though he’s moments away from letting them down.

It’s a little depressing, really. Everything that’s ever happened to him over the course of his life has never been a result of his own choices. Born into a fearful, territorial world with magic running in his blood, he’s watched the chance of having a wholesome life getting ripped right out of his hands. Promises of equality between the races have long been stamped out, and being a part of the Coalition after all these years has only served to solidify the realisation that his own volition is, and will never be, something of consideration.

“Right,” he mumbles to himself, hating how he sounds like he’s given up. “There’s only one left thing that I can do.”

He grabs a sheaf of papers and heads right out of the door.

About half of the other representatives are already seated around the table, and he feels eyes on him the second he walks into the room. Sehun settles into his seat without looking at anyone else, index finger running over the edges of the papers absently as he worries at his bottom lip.

One by one, the remaining seats are filled, and by the time the human emissary steps in, Sehun’s ready to get it over with. They’ve been wanting his race to submit, and finally, after years, they’ll get what they want. The first mythic race to submit to the humans, Sehun thinks bitterly, what a legacy he’s leaving for his people.

“What is your response?”

Sehun flattens a palm over the papers, jaw tightening as he rises to his feet.

“On behalf of my people, I –”

“Hold up.”

Nonplussed, Sehun looks over to where Minseok’s got his hand in the air, black-tipped fingers lazily flapping for attention. The demon looks like he hasn’t got a single care in the world, red eyes lidded as he lounges back in his chair. When he runs a mock contemplative finger over his lips, Sehun half-expects to see ash smeared across his skin.

“Excuse me?”

“Hypothetically,” Minseok begins, that finger flipping around to point at the human, “what would happen if he refuses to submit his race to you?”

There’s a thrum of tense energy in the room – no one understands where this line of conversation is headed.

“Well,” the emissary says slowly, “we would consider that a breach of the Coalition as well as an act of defiance.”

Minseok waves his hand, encouraging the emissary to explain further.

“If he continues to resist, we would subdue the race by force. There have been too many instances of unfounded violence by the mages for us to turn a blind eye to this issue any longer.”

_Force_ , Sehun mouths in disbelief. He looks around the table, a little wild, and sees his own expression reflected back at him on everyone else’s faces.

“Hey,” Jongdae starts, gaze flitting between Minseok and the emissary. “Let’s just let Sehun talk, yeah? It’s his –”

“I don’t think so,” Minseok drawls, a devilish grin creeping onto his face. “See, what they’re hoping to get from him will, in turn, affect us. Do you really think I’m going to let him put my people at risk?”

_What?_

“What?” Yixing echoes, the tip of a pointed ear twitching.

“Yeah, I’m not letting these pesky humans take yet another race out,” Minseok says, no longer looking like he’s just trying to start shit. For a second, Sehun’s convinced he sees those eyes flash blood red. “You don’t want to lose yourself to them, do you?”

It takes Sehun a few too many seconds to realise that Minseok’s talking to him.

“No, I don’t, but this isn’t –”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Minseok finishes. There’s a coldness to his words that shuts Sehun up as effectively as a slap to the face, and all he can do is stare at the demon as the blood in his veins starts to curdle. “If you go through with this, you’re not gonna like what I’ll do. Do you understand? This meeting is over.”

Minseok strides right out of the door, leaving everyone gobsmacked in his wake.

 

 

 

  
Jongin glances around the room: Jongdae looks absolutely furious, Junmyeon looks distressed, Chanyeol seems like he either doesn’t give a shit or doesn’t fully understand what just happened, and Sehun has never looked so pale in his life. The emissary had taken his leave after a horribly vague statement, scurrying out of the building like a hunted mouse.

“Shit,” Baekhyun says, “I expected something shitty today, but not _that_ shitty.”

“He’s pretty much just declared war on the humans,” Kyungsoo mutters dryly, and Jongin can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Gee, you think?”

“Shut up, asshole. No one asked for your opinion.” On his way out of the room, Kyungsoo makes sure to tread on Jongin’s toes.

It’s always easy to rile Kyungsoo up, but Jongin’s pretty sure it’s easier for Kyungsoo to rile him up. Comes with the territory, he supposes, what with the clash between their respective races. Human media has hyped up the discord between them to such a degree – god, what even is that dreadful series called _Twilight_? – that their races have now come to believe that they’re each other’s biggest enemies, a bleak reality that doesn’t even spare the youngest of their kinds.

“I gotta go talk to the emissary,” Sehun mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. Jongin watches as the papers crumple helplessly in his grip. “I have to, uh –”

“No,” Jongdae interrupts, his halo practically slipping off his head in his anger. “I’m going to talk to that insufferable demon, and I will _make sure_ he fixes things. Then you can talk to the emissary.”

Jongin fights back the urge to say _yikes_ , and inches his chair just a little closer towards the table when Jongdae flies by. Ah, yet another example of natural animosity between races.

A chair groans when Sehun flops down into it, looking like he has just run ten marathons in an hour.

“When was the last time you ate?” Yixing asks, frowning down at him. From what Jongin has observed, the relationship that those two share is the closest to friendship in this coalition. It’s interesting, to say the least – Jongin has always viewed the nine of them as… business partners, a group of people that came together and stayed together simply because they shared a common goal. Being able to find friendship in a shitfest like this? A small miracle.

“Don’t remember,” Sehun mutters, running fingers through his hair until they snag on the band keeping the strands pulled off his face. “Two days ago? I don’t know.”

“I’m gonna go get you something to eat.”

Jongin catches a whiff of earthiness when Yixing passes him, a scent so strong he glances down at Yixing’s heels, half expecting to see crunched leaves beneath his feet.

“We’re gonna go see if Jongdae’s managed to kill Minseok yet,” Baekhyun chirps, grabbing onto Chanyeol’s wrist and tugging the bulky man out of the room. At the sound of claws clicking against the floor, Jongin can’t help but twitch.

Junmyeon’s gone from worrying to looking oddly calm. His tablet is out in front of him and he’s busy typing away on it, pausing every so often just to spray water onto his skin.

“What are you doing?”

Junmyeon spares him a glance. “Working on a plan,” he answers, eyes flitting back down to the screen. “If, you know, we end up going to war with the humans.”  
  
“I hate this,” Sehun grits out, pale lids and even paler eyelashes trembling as he stares down at his lap. “I hate being in this position. I hate them for putting me in this position. I _hate_ them.” His words are venomous, voice so acidic that Jongin can practically feel it singe the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t care if we go to war,” he continues, finally looking up at the other two men still at the table. Those bottle green eyes flash dangerously, whirlwinds of emotions struggling to fight their way out. “In fact, I’m ready. I’m ready to show them why we shouldn’t be messed with, why they are the inferior race. I’m going to kill them all.”

Behind him, the Coalition’s emblem bursts into flames.

 

 

 

  
Unable to face his people, his family, Sehun holes up in his office. Yixing stops by to drop off some food before leaving; despite the queasiness in this stomach, Sehun manages to finish it all. He transfigures an armchair into a bed and curls up under the covers until the building is quiet. The moon is high and heavy in the sky by the time he ventures out to the bathrooms for a quick shower.

Sleep evades him, and Sehun makes no effort to catch it. He heads up to the roof and perches on the edge, heels smacking off the side of the building as he stares up at the open sky. The air is fresh and crisp, but as Sehun breathes, he begins to taste ash and dry smoke, clogging up his throat until all he can do is gasp for air.

There are tears in his eyes and his damned scar is itching again. He can feel his nails break the skin of his palms, the tackiness of blood smearing across his fingertips in a thin layer. His lungs plead for air, and he does his best to fight through the vice around his chest – after what seems like hours, he finally succeeds in drawing in a shaky breath only to have it rush right out of him in shock.

“ _Fuck_ , what the –”

“Sorry,” Jongin says, withdrawing his hand and settling down a few inches away from him. “Did I scare you?”

“What the hell do you want?” Sehun can’t help it – he drags the blunt edges of his nails across his scar, sighing at the relief that washes over him.

He can feel Jongin’s body heat despite the distance between them, a fact that takes him by surprise. The man’s clad in nothing but a thin cotton shirt and black slacks, a somewhat refreshing change from his usual prim and proper suits.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“I have something I’d like to show you,” Jongin says, unbothered by the sharpness of Sehun’s sarcasm. “Could use your help, in fact.”

With that, he leaps off the edge and lands firmly on the ground below. It’s hard to not be reminded of a cat, Sehun thinks, staring down at Jongin.

“...I’ll be right down,” he mutters, well aware of the fact that the vampire would be able to pick up on his words despite the distance.

When he steps out through the main doors, he finds Jongin waiting for him by his motorcycle.

“Might wanna take your bike,” Jongin suggests. “It’d be a long walk otherwise. I’d offer to carry you, but you’d probably hex me a dozen times.”

Sehun plucks his keys out from his pocket and snorts. “Yeah, I probably would.”

 

 

 

  
They’ve been on the road – or rather, the dirt path – for almost half an hour before Jongin taps Sehun on the shoulder as a signal for him to kill the engine.

“Did you bring me here to kill me just so Minseok wouldn’t have any reason to start a war?”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Jongin sees the tension around the man’s eyes and hears the rush of his blood beneath all those layers of skin. He can practically taste the coppery tang on his tongue.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Jongin says lightly, pushing ferns out of the way as he ventures deeper into the forest. “Besides, if I was going to, I really didn’t need to bring you all the way out here.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes, Jongin clearing a path for the both of them with a single swipe of his hands while Sehun helps guide their way with a simple illuminating spell. When the thickness of the forest opens into a clearing, Jongin slows to a stop and steps aside.

“What – oh god, what happened to them?”

Lying in the middle of the clearing are a couple of horses, flanks heaving as they struggle to breathe through the pain. Sehun sees deep gashes all over them, blood already dried, and he spots a few fractured bones.

“I was out hunting last night when I found them like this,” Jongin says, crouching near the head of one. It lets out a weak whinny when Jongin runs a fingertip down its muzzle. “Looks like they were attacked by a predator. I didn’t want to risk moving them, so I thought I’d ask you or Baekhyun to come and help heal them.”

Sehun nods, staff already materialising in his hand. Magic wells up inside of him as naturally as an exhalation of breath and it’s a sensation he’ll never get tired of feeling. When he focuses on his magic, everything turns minutely sharper – the horses’ breaths are a little clearer, the grass beneath them is a little greener, and the moonlight is a little brighter.

A pale glow fills the clearing, blue particles floating from the eyehole of his staff towards the injured animals. Muscle and flesh start to knit together, broken bones shifting to set themselves right. Sehun channels his magic until he feels it hit a wall, signalling that there’s nothing in the vicinity left for it to go.

“Do you have a strip of cloth anywhere? I want to clean up the dried blood to see if their wounds healed well.”

Jongin pauses for a moment before he shrugs out of his shirt.

“Here,” he says, and offers up the garment. Sehun blinks at his companion’s sudden shirtless state but he doesn’t miss a beat, raising his free hand to conjure a thin stream of water. Shirt now wet, Jongin returns to the horses and begins wiping away the dried blood.

“Looks good,” Jongin reports, rinsing out the blood under Sehun’s stream of water for another wipe-down. “You patched them up perfectly.”

They help the horses get back on their feet. One ducks her head to nudge at Sehun’s palm, and he gives her a pat on the hindquarters as they set off into the darkness. When Sehun can no longer hear the muffled sounds of their hooves, he settles down onto the spongy grass and flops onto his back.

“It’s nice here,” he says, staring up at the starless sky. “Gives you a false sense of peace, you know?”

Somewhere around him, Jongin moves about, but Sehun can’t quite figure out what he’s doing. He doesn’t really care. Only when Jongin finally takes a seat next to him does he glance over. The vampire’s got a bunch of flowers in his hands, the petals still wet with dew, and he’s busy twining a rope of braided grass around the stalks.

“Flowers?”

“For my sister,” Jongin replies. “She doesn’t leave the coven much. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You have a sister?”

“Sired sister,” Jongin clarifies, azure gaze bright even in the dim light. “My birth sisters are no longer alive.”

Sehun lets his gaze linger on the other man for a second too long before he looks away.

 

 

 

  
The fate of the Coalition hangs in the wind for the next few days. Life feels… suspended, as if they were submerged underwater and left in that moment of weightlessness. Life is… aimless, and Sehun goes about his day doing mundane things. He deals with paperwork, helps the others with various tasks, and returns to his people to help them train.

He still doesn’t get a wink of sleep. It’s only thanks to several spells and the sheer need of having to _do_ something that he gets through the days – but when night falls, Sehun finds himself back up on the roof, neck itching, beneath the moonlight. More often than not, Jongin joins him there.

Ironically, he gets the best sleep he’s ever had in weeks on the day the missive arrives. It’s short and to the point, a declaration of war that has Minseok grinning and everyone else falling dead silent.

“Right,” Sehun finally says. The humans’ seal printed at the top of the missive burns into his eyes; guilt and panic taste like bile on his tongue. “I have to, ah, inform my people.”

An hour later and he’s passed out on the couch, so drained from everything that crashing is the only thing he is able to do. When he wakes up, it’s late into the night and the building is silent. He fixes himself a cold sandwich down in the kitchens and brings it up to the roof, where he chases the food down with a whole bottle of wine.

Somehow, it’s not a surprise to him when he hears footsteps.

“Dude,” he says, not turning around. “Why are you always here?”

“What?”

Oh, that’s not Jongin’s voice.

“Sorry, thought you were someone else.”

Wine sloshes around inside the bottle when Sehun lifts it up to peer inside.

“Who were you expecting?”

It’s Junmyeon – the mer’s skin glistens, droplets of water hanging off his eyelashes and the tips of his hair. While his hair is a deep, navy blue, the dampness always makes it look black. Sehun doesn’t think he’s seen Junmyeon’s actual hair colour more than a handful of times in the year they’ve known each other.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sehun drones, lifting a heavy shoulder. After a moment’s consideration, he offers the wine to Junmyeon. “Want some?”

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“Do you need me for something?”

Junmyeon shakes his head, sending water spraying over Sehun’s arm. Sehun doesn’t mind; it’s actually quite nice, feels cool against his skin.

“Wanted to see how you’re doing. Jongin told me I’d probably be able to find you up here.”

An animal howls somewhere in the woods, causing a flock of birds to burst through the canopy. Their flight rustles thousands of leaves and sends dozens more fluttering to the ground.

“I’m fine,” Sehun says, then snorts. “That’s a lie. I’m not fine. Not even close, under these fucking circumstances. I know it’s not my fault, that none of this is my fault, but it sure as hell feels like it.”

Junmyeon kindly wipes his palm dry before setting it onto Sehun’s shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out. All of us are in this together, yeah? You’re not alone.”

_Sure feels like it_. Wordlessly, Sehun gulps down a mouthful of cheap wine and stares up at the craters on the moon’s surface.

 

 

 

  
There’s a somberness to the meeting room that Jongin’s never experienced before. No one knows when the first wave of attacks will hit, but they suspect it’ll be soon. Evacuations have to begin immediately, and it’s not an easy feat. Thousands of land-dwelling mythics need to be moved to safe houses that the Coalition had established way back in the beginning – they were never meant to be used, and yet here they are. When that’s done, they have to start planning for the war itself. Able-bodied mythics will be called in to fight and battle plans will have to be put together in haste. Time is a luxury they cannot afford to spare.

“I’ll ask the aquatic life for aid,” Junmyeon’s saying when Jongin tunes back in. He presses the bib of his pen onto his notepad and watches as ink blooms blotchily. “History shows us that the humans tend to engage in naval warfare, so having aquatic life on our side will be a big help.”

“We’ll help by hunting,” Minseok adds. “We’re the most powerful when we’re full, as I’m sure you all know by now.” Jongin wants to roll his eyes. Judging by the reactions – or lack thereof – of the others, they’re feeling the same way. Minseok snickers and says nothing else.

“If you weren’t a part of the Coalition,” Sehun says icily as he flips a page with much more force than necessary, “I’d kill you with my bare hands. I hope you know that.”

Something akin to fear flickers across Minseok’s face. The demons have always been weak to magic, and it’s common knowledge by now that Sehun’s one of the strongest mages that has ever walked the land. His people, at least those under his tutelage, must be formidable too. The man doesn’t like to flaunt his abilities, but they’ve seen what he can do.

“As it stands, we both share a common foe,” Sehun continues, pale brows drawn as he scribbles down a few words. “So you’re safe. For now.”

When he glances up from his notes, it’s to look Minseok right in the eyes. Green and red clash, and the resulting shade isn’t too pretty.

Baekhyun breaks the tension with a cough and a sprinkle of fairy dust in the air. When the dust settles, it reveals an enormous plate of food, stacked high enough to block their view of each other.

“Don’t know if you guys noticed, but we skipped lunch,” Baekhyun says in place of an explanation. He reaches over and picks up a large drumstick, sharp teeth sinking into juicy meat. “Y’all should eat some before it gets cold.”

There’s a tense lull in the proceedings where no one’s exactly sure on how to proceed. Then Kyungsoo shrugs and grabs a strip of steak, effectively breaking the silence.

“What,” he says shortly, “I haven’t had time to go hunting recently.”

Chanyeol snorts, and Jongin watches in amusement as steam curls lazily out of his nostrils.

 

 

 

  
The nine of them are gathered in the lobby, gearing up and getting ready to leave. Well, Jongin isn’t entirely sure what Minseok’s up to, but he doesn’t really have the time to give it much thought. The angels and demons are spared from having to relocate their people – after all, it’s quite hard for humans to find a way to heaven or hell without dying first. Junmyeon and Chanyeol have it relatively easy as well, the mers needing to move deeper into the trenches while the dragons just have to reinforce their homes up high in the mountains.

“Yixing,” Jongdae says, peering down at his notes, “I’ll be going with you, yeah?”

The vampires and werewolves have speed on their side while the faes have invisibility. The short straws go to the mages and the elves, but if everyone sticks to the plan, they should be alright.

“I’d offer to help you,” Minseok grins, “but I don’t think you’d want me there.”

Sehun’s eye twitches.

“I’ll head over to you once the covens have resettled,” Jongin cuts in, slotting himself between the two. “We can help with children and the elderly.”

“Yeah,” is Sehun’s reply. “Thanks.”

Yixing and Jongdae depart, the former climbing onto the back of his beloved horse as Jongdae’s wings shift beneath his skin in preparation for flight. Momentarily distracted by Chanyeol’s transformation – the bloody dragon _always_ burns several lines of trees whenever he transforms –, he’s startled when a loud thunk sounds over by his right.

Sehun’s standing in the middle of a large sigil generated by his staff, the circle glimmering a bright blue as he murmurs a spell under his breath. Right before he’s teleported away, he glances over at Jongin, and the latter feels the air in his lungs get sucked into a metaphorical vortex. Then Sehun’s gone, along with the sigil, and Jongin is left staring open-mouthed at the spot where he once was.

“Hey,” someone nudges him in the shoulder. “You should get a move on. Kyungsoo’s just left.”

“Yeah,” Jongin answers, still feeling a little dazed. Stepping through the doors, Jongin passes through the barrier of charms and looks around, glimpsing a large wolf bounding into the trees further down the road, its ebony fur rippling with the wind.

He has the option of flight, he knows, but he prefers running instead. The constant beat of his feet against the ground soothes his ever-active brain, and while it doesn’t tire him out, it always renders him just a little winded.

Ophelia is waiting for him when he finally gets to his coven, red hair tumbling over her shoulders as she fiddles with the gun slotted into her thigh holster.

“What’s our status?”

“We’re mostly packed,” Ophelia reports, following on Jongin’s heels as they stride inside. “Should be ready to go within the hour.”

After a quick change into a comfortable pair of jeans and a thin turtleneck – it’s just a little chilly out –, Jongin shoves most of his belongings into bags and hauls them downstairs. He’s resting by the foot of the stairs, watching as a few dozen vampires arm themselves to the teeth when one of the elders appears next to him, scarred lips thinned out into a line.

“This is bullshit,” he says. Jongin can only agree. “This isn’t even our fault.”

“I think it’s long overdue,” Ophelia grunts, shoving a bulging duffle bag out the door. “I’m ready to duke it out with them if I’m to be honest with you. I’m sick of living like we’re inferior when we all know that we’re not.”

“We can discuss this at a later date,” Jongin says, accepting a proffered gun and slotting it into its holster. Someone else passes him his favourite sword, one that he hasn’t had the chance – or the need – to use in a while. Having it back in his hands brings back a rush of memories from decades ago, and Jongin runs tender fingers down the flat of the blade until he reaches the hilt. There’s a sharp edge there, meant to break skin and draw blood to fill the groove carved into the middle of the blade. The mix of pure silver and vampire blood is the most effective weapon against the werewolves, and there was a time in the past where he’d be out hunting for them every single night for weeks.

Ophelia pulls it out of his hands and sheaths it. “Mind helping? You can play with your sword later.”

A few stifled laughs erupt around the room and Jongin rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. They’re all centuries old; you’d think they would be matured beings by now.

 

 

 

  
Sehun leans against the cobbled wall, watching at the fifth group of mages set off on their bikes. They’ve cast charms to enable themselves to physically pass through solid objects – and stay invisible –, which saves a great amount of time. The charms will only hold until they get to the countryside, but that’s more than enough.

He feels a whoosh of air against his cheek and he turns around to see a small horde of vampires slowing to a stop in the alley.

“Are we still able to lend a hand?”

“Yes, actually. We have a bunch of things that we need help with moving – most of my people are still en-route, so they can’t teleport back here yet.”

Jongin peers into the modest house – magicked to hold over a hundred times its actual capacity –, and sees piles of boxes just waiting to be picked up. There’s an empty area of the floor, the smooth tiles covered with sigils.

“I can put a charm on those to lighten the weight, make it easier for you to carry.”

Chuckling, Jongin bends to pick two up almost effortlessly. “Thank you, but I think we’ll be okay.” He gives an order, and the rest of the vampires file in to grab some boxes before heading back out and ducking into the neighbouring woods for cover.

“Hi!”

Sehun blinks at the cheerful woman waving at him.

“You must be Sehun!”

“Yes,” he answers, accepting her proffered hand. “And you are –?”

“Ophelia, Jongin’s sired sister.”

“Oh, he’s talked about you before. You’re the one he picked those flowers for.”

She chortles, purposefully walking towards the smallest boxes. Jongin rolls his eyes at the cheeky grin she throws over her shoulder at him.

“You’re strong enough to carry much more than that.”

“Don’t wanna,” she returns, then turns her attention back to Sehun. “He’s talked about you, too. I’m sorry you had to deal with the humans, it’s really unfair.”

She gives Sehun another beam and runs out of the door, fiery hair fluttering in the wind.

“Thanks for helping,” Sehun says, gesturing to the boxes that Jongin is currently piling atop each other. “I’ll see you later?”

“Anytime.” Jongin smiles and promptly takes off.

 

 

 

  
It’s well into the next day by the time everyone is settled in their new accommodations. But the nine representatives don’t have the time to unpack – no, they have to roll out their battle plans and get ready for some serious bloodshed.

The Coalition headquarters is a hectic hubbub of noise, the door constantly revolving as people flood in and out on various tasks and missions. The perimeter is under 24/7 surveillance, groups of twelve faes rotating between three shifts. Mythics who are able to fight undergo deeply intense training, hours upon hours of strenuous work heaped upon them until they’re stretched as thin as paper.

“Take a break,” Jongin grunts, reaching for a pack of chilled blood. If he could sweat, his clothes would be soaked through by now. Ophelia shuffles over to him, her hair a messy nest atop her head, and flops down to the floor.

“I’m tired,” she complains. “How long do we have to keep doing this?”

“We need to keep our skills in top condition until they come for us,” Jongin says, licking a drop of crimson off the corner of his mouth. “Better to suffer now than to suffer later at their hands.”

Ophelia is just about to say something when Yixing bursts through the doors, arrows rattling about inside their quiver. Panic is evident in his elegant face.

“Hey, do you have any AB- blood? We need a pack if you can spare any.”

“Yeah,” Jongin says with a frown, signalling for one of the other vampires to procure a pack for Yixing. “What’s wrong?”

“Sehun fainted,” he says, “I think he depleted a lot of his magic working with the other mages and keeping this place secure – his blood’s thin, he’s feverish, his pulse is thready. Doubt he’s eaten at all the past couple of days. None of the other mages felt like they had enough magic in them for the amount of healing necessary, so here we are, doing it old school.”

“Take more packs.” Jongin darts over to the storage unit and grabs a handful before passing them over to the elf. “And I’m coming with you.”

 

 

 

  
There’s a dull ringing in his ears and his head is splitting apart. Groaning, Sehun cracks an eye open and lets the blurriness clear up before he glances around.

“You’re up,” he hears, the voice quiet and familiar. “You fainted, you know? Pushed yourself too hard.”

“I had to.” It’s a struggle to sit up, but the position helps clear his head. “It’s not like we have all the time in the world.”

Jongin sucks air in through his teeth as he stands and crosses the room. “What good is it if you aren’t around to see what we might accomplish at the end of all of this?”

There’s faint clinking, then a waft of fragrance. His stomach rumbles and Sehun can’t help but blush at the sound.

“Eat something,” Jongin says, setting a tray of food down in front of him. “According to Yixing, it’s a plate of all of your favourite foods. Kept warm by one of your mages.”

As he eats, Sehun keeps his gaze trained on the other man. Jongin seems preoccupied with several files, strands of hair hanging loosely from his bun and tickling along the ridge of his cheekbone as he chews at the end of his pen.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out if I can strengthen our formations,” Jongin mumbles distractedly. “I’m seeing too many holes, and I’m not comfortable sending our people out there like this.”

The scratching of his pen fills the room.

“Does life ever feel… never-ending when you don’t have to sleep?”

Sehun catches a flash of blue when Jongin’s gaze darts over to him for a second or two.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “Not so much nowadays, considering how busy we’ve all been.”

The bib of the pen returns to the surface of the paper, and Sehun pokes at his food until the ache in his stomach fades away. Jongin is still working by the time Sehun’s done with his food, and it’s the muted sounds of writing and page flipping that lulls Sehun back into slumber.

 

 

 

  
With each passing day of apparent peace, their nerves fray just a little more. Sehun doesn’t know about the others, but he always startles awake after a couple hours of sleep, darting over to the window with bloodshot eyes, half-expecting to see an army creeping up on them in the dark. When he fails to spot even a single body moving through the trees, he slinks back into bed and tries to grab another few hours of restless sleep.

He trains daily, flexing the muscles of his magic as often as he can to keep them limber. It’s the only thing that takes his mind off everything else. He’s learned from his mistake, at least, finally willing to listen to his body and take a break when necessary.

At some point, his insomnia comes back in waves. He’ll get a full night’s of sleep one day, and barely four hours of sleep over the next 48 hours. So while everyone else is getting some well-deserved rest, Sehun returns to the roof and wiles away the time.

He’s in the middle of conjuring falling sakura petals when the door to the rooftop opens.

“That explains the petals I found on the ground yesterday,” Jongin quips, handing something out to Sehun on the flat of his palm. It’s a small snow globe, except instead of snow, Sehun recognises the petals currently raining down to the ground from his fingertips floating about inside. “Asked one of the other mages to help. Well, I guess she did it all, I just had an image in my mind of the completed product.”

Sehun takes it from Jongin’s hand and peers into the glass sphere, where he spots a tiny plastic dog – a bichon, if he’s right – frolicking about in the petals.

“That’s adorable,” Sehun laughs delightfully, unable to keep his eyes off the dog.

“I remember you telling us that you had a dog just like this one not long ago. Thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

“Thank you,” Sehun says softly, giving the globe a little shake. Petals stop falling from his fingers, but they’re everywhere around the dog. “It’s lovely.”

“Anytime.”

They sit on the roof’s ledge for hours, Sehun entertaining Jongin with the vast cache of spells he has up his sleeves that ordinarily, would appear to be useless. He gives fallen twigs life and has them skate on a tiny frozen pond that he conjures out of nowhere; he folds a couple of birds out of paper scraps that he finds in his pocket and has them fly in circles around Jongin’s head; he even turns Jongin’s hair an obnoxious shade of puke green that lasts for a full hour.

“Magic really does exist,” Jongin says solemnly, tugging on a lock of his new hair.

“I could _actually_ make you fart rainbows,” Sehun fake-whispers with a wriggle of his brows. Jongin can’t help but laugh.

 

 

 

  
“Do you have family?”

“We all have family,” Sehun points out. “Technically.”

Jongin executes a spectacular eye roll. “You know what I mean. You’re always alone. I’m not much better, but at least I have Ophelia.”

“It’s easier this way,” Sehun shrugs. “Easier to cut ties if there is nothing to cut, you know?”

They’re in Sehun’s office tonight instead of up on the roof, a thunderstorm wreaking too much havoc for their patience. Orbs of light float around the room, casting shadows across furniture and features that warp with their movements. They’re nursing glasses of bourbon, Jongin sprawling across the couch while Sehun reclines in his chair behind the desk, bare feet propped up on deep mahogany.

“Might be so,” Jongin says, staring at the swirling auburn liquid. “But it makes leaving much harder. Don’t leave a life that’s half lived – wouldn’t you agree?”

He peers at the vampire over the thin rim of his glass and drinks in the sight of the man draped over his couch cushions, all lazy limbs and hooded eyes.

“Perhaps,” he eventually replies. Judging by the attentiveness of Jongin’s gaze, it doesn’t seem as though alcohol affects vampires much. “I have a question.”

A brow quirks.

“When was the last time you had human blood?”

“A couple of decades ago, I think,” Jongin answers the question easily, without any hesitation whatsoever. “Wasn’t exactly planned.” He catches the look of confusion on Sehun’s face and clarifies, “I have a bad habit that not a lot of people know about. I tend to bite the other party when we engage in, ah, carnal pleasure.”

“The last time you had sex was _two decades_ ago?”

“What – _no_ ,” Jongin laughs, “the last time I drew blood while having sex was two decades ago. I’ve learned to control myself since.”

Not quite sure of how to respond, Sehun nods and lets his head fall back until the light orbs come into view. He swirls his fingers and watches as they spin in accordance.

“How long has it been for you?”

Sehun physically jerks in surprise – the orbs hurtle to the other side of the room and collide into the wall. Clearing his throat, he summons the orbs back and tries to will the sudden flush out of his cheeks.

“A few months,” he mumbles. “Maybe more.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Jongin says lightly. “Sex isn’t necessary for survival, and survival is what’s important right now. But, I will say that sex is great for relieving stress.”

“Sex also requires two people,” Sehun snorts, toes pressed against the floor as he spins himself in slow circles. “Or more.”

“We’ve got two people right here.”

Sehun’s ankle slams off the base of the chair in his haste to stop spinning, but he doesn’t even register the throb.

 

 

 

  
They’re way too tall for the couch. Sehun’s toes are sore from where they’re stuffed between the seat cushions and Jongin’s neck is bent at such an awkward position that he’s bound to feel it very soon. Yet, they’re perfectly content with how things are.

“Are we actually doing this?”

“Appears so,” Jongin exhales, careful with his fangs as he licks deeper into Sehun’s mouth. He tastes the bourbon, but it’s the scent of the man that overwhelms him. His blood smells absolutely divine, rushing fresh just beneath all that pale skin.

He draws out a lovely shiver when he slides a hand up beneath Sehun’s shirt, the temperature of his skin cooler than the average human’s. Fingers flit along the slight curve of a waist, the jut of a hipbone, the dip along an Apollo’s belt. Thanks to the chill of his touch, there are goosebumps all up and down Sehun’s arms, something that Jongin chuckles at when he rids the man of his shirt and spots them.

“Cold,” Sehun huffs.

“Sorry,” Jongin grins, completely unapologetic.

His smile slides off his face in the next few seconds, replaced by a thrill that runs through his veins when he realises that Sehun’s nipples are pebbled into stiff little peaks due to his touch. Suddenly hit with the desire to mark and taste, he flips them over effortlessly and dips his head, gaze flicking up for a brief moment before he closes his mouth around a nub and licks.

“Jesus,” Sehun grits, arching into Jongin’s touch and practically ripping holes into the upholstery of the poor couch. When Jongin drags the flat of his teeth along the nipple and rolls it ever-so-slightly, Sehun lets out an embarrassing whimper – a few books promptly fly off their shelf.

“I take no responsibility if this room is a wreck by the time we’re done,” Jongin sing-songs, shrugging out of his shirt before sitting back on his haunches and peering down at the mage splayed out beneath him. “That’s assuming you wish to keep going?”

With a roll of his eyes, Sehun flicks his fingers and magicks the rest of their clothes off.

Jongin did not expect that at all. Mouth agape, he ignores his own nakedness in favour of raking his eyes down Sehun’s frame, starting from the jut of his clavicles all the down to the flex of his bare feet. The man’s cock lies heavy and proud against his stomach, a little pearl of liquid already beading at the slit.

“It’s been a while,” Sehun says, somewhat sardonic.

“So, fuck foreplay?”

“Fuck foreplay, just fuck,” Sehun agrees. He sits up fluidly, shoves Jongin back against the pillows, and settles down astride his lap like it’s his throne and he _belongs_ there. Jongin files that particular image away for future contemplation.

With an outstretched hand, Sehun summons a nondescript bottle from the depths of his drawers. It’s been a while since he last used it, but the mere idea of using it right now has every single nerve ending in his body singing hymns.

“No spell for this?” Jongin says, amusement clear in his voice.

“There is,” Sehun shrugs, “but I like the gradual stretch. Don’t you?”

“Depends on who does the stretching,” Jongin returns.  
  
“I’ll return the favour,” Sehun offers, biting down on his lip to hide his smirk when Jongin hurries to uncap the bottle.

It’s not long until a slick finger presses up against his entrance – Sehun rises up on his knees and parts himself to make things easier for Jongin, feeling the air rush right out of his lungs when the digit breaches him and curls _just_ right.

He presses a hand against the slight curve of Jongin’s pec for purchase, nails digging into the muscle with just enough strength to print half-moons into the man’s flesh. A strong hand curls around his waist, and the finger inside him crooks again before a second one pushes in.

“Yes,” Sehun breathes, leaning in to brush their lips together. “God, that’s good.”

Cool fingertips flit across his prostate with every push and pull of Jongin’s fingers, enough to coax a steady dribble of pre-come out of his cock but not enough to ease the burning need deep in his belly.

“Another one,” he urges, and Jongin willingly obliges.

It’s addicting, the rush he gets at the hands of a sexual partner, especially if they mesh well physically. He rides the high like a cresting wave, only tumbling off when Jongin nips at the shell of his ear and whispers a rough, “You’re so tight.”

“Get inside,” he moans, almost frantic with need. Jongin, although clearly just as flustered, moves too calmly for Sehun’s tastes.

With something akin to a snarl, Sehun lines himself up with Jongin’s cock and pushes down, groaning when the head pushes past the first ring of muscle. It’s a thick, luscious slide, and Sehun is half delirious with it.

It seems as though neither of them are able to wait any longer – the second Jongin’s fully sheathed inside, they start moving. Their eyes lock, azure meeting bottle green, bright with pleasure and a smidgen of something else.

Jongin’s got his hands around the curve of Sehun’s ass, thumbs slotted perfectly into the seams of his thighs, fingers pressed into the supple flesh as he helps the man rock down onto his cock. He meets him halfway, hips snapping up with just enough force to fill the room with soft sounds of skin against skin.

“How are your stress levels?” He asks, enjoying the feeling of Sehun’s fingers pulling his hair out of his face just as much as he’s enjoying the slick heat around his cock.

“Non-existent,” Sehun pants in response. “You’re right, sex is great for stress.” Jongin can’t help but laugh.

Sehun visibly trembles when Jongin wraps a hand around his cock and squeezes on the upstroke, and Jongin himself can’t help but groan at the thought of all the blood rushing south.

“You want to, don’t you,” Sehun whispers, leaning closer.

“Want to what?”

Sehun simply tilts his head in response, exposing the unmarred skin of his neck. It’s instantaneous, the way Jongin’s fangs lengthen and the way his throat burns.

“Do it,” Sehun says. “I want to know how it feels.”

So Jongin, unable to resist, leans in and sinks his fangs into Sehun’s neck. He doesn’t really register the fact that Sehun orgasms the second he draws blood, nor does he hear the gasp that tumbles out of the man’s lips, too engrossed in the taste that floods his mouth.

All blood shares a few base notes, but everything else is different.

Sehun tastes of passion, strength, loneliness. There are hints of desperation and anger, but they’re covered with a layer of responsibility and steadfastness. He tastes bittersweet.

The moment his thirst is quenched, Jongin pulls back, running the flat of his tongue over the puncture wounds to seal them. It’s only when Sehun shifts does he realise that he came, too.

“You had a pretty intense orgasm, at least in my opinion.”

Jongin blinks – oh, _there’s_ the oversensitivity.

Above him, Sehun’s hair is a mess, ashy strands tumbling down his shoulders and some standing up stubbornly. The lines of his scars are stark against the flush present in his cheeks, up his neck, and across his chest, the zipper-like marks calling out to Jongin like a beacon in the dark.

“How’d it, ah, feel?”

“Like nothing else I’ve ever felt,” Sehun says with a dumbfounded laugh. Jongin can only agree.

 

 

 

  
They form a dalliance, one that keeps their nights… eventful. Insomnia falls prey to the post-sex haze, and Sehun always finds himself waking up in the early mornings, alone in his office and curled up on the couch with a soft blanket carefully draped over him. He never would’ve thought that just a few hours of sleep would make him feel so rested.

“You’re different,” Baekhyun says one day, eyes narrowed in faux suspicion. “What’d you do?”

Narrowly dodging Baekhyun’s questing fingers that appear right by his jaw, Sehun reaches over and grabs his toast out of the toaster.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, dumping an obnoxious amount of sugar into his coffee.

“You look _alive_ , dude.”

“Thanks?”

The kitchen door opens and someone else steps in. Baekhyun pounces instantly.

“Jongin!”

Sehun freezes.

“Yes?”

“Isn’t something different about our Sehunnie? I can’t quite put my finger on it, but maybe you can.”

When cool fingers brush against his elbow, Sehun jumps so high he spills half of his coffee all over the countertop. He cleans up the mess with a simple wave of his hand, but it’s much harder to magick the blush on his face away.

“Yeah, now that you mention it.” Jongin’s presence floods the space around him, much like water flowing into and around crevices. “I don’t know what it is either, but I like it.”

“You’re no help whatsoever,” Baekhyun huffs. Jongin shrugs and moves over to the refrigerator of blood.

“But whatever it is,” Jongin says, grabbing a couple of packs, “Sehun should keep up with it.”

Sehun stuffs a mouthful of dry toast into his mouth just to stop himself from saying something stupid.

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s in the middle of sparring with Ophelia when the alarm sounds.

“Contact the coven,” Jongin orders, sheathing his sword and hurrying to load his firearms. “I want them here as soon as possible.”

She nods and turns on her heels, disappearing up the stairs in a heartbeat. Jongin himself is halfway up the stairs when he hears – and feels – Chanyeol’s transformation, the entire building rattling under the weight of the dragon as he lands on the roof. A foul smell floods his nostrils, signalling to Jongin that Kyungsoo and his wolves are already on site.

He almost collides into Yixing when he gets to the lobby, but the elf’s reflexes manage to prevent a few broken bones. A glance towards the doors tells him that the mages have lined the perimeter with healing wards, should anyone need medical attention while the mages and faes themselves are busy with battle. The sigils emit a warm golden glow, bright amidst the dusk.

“They’re coming from the north-east,” Yixing reports. His quiver is so packed with arrows that they don’t budge a single inch within their confines. “A few hundred troops, according to Chanyeol. The water’s safe as of now, but Junmyeon will keep us posted.”

“Alright. Stay safe,” Jongin says, looking over his shoulder to see Yixing climbing up to the roof access.

“You too.”

Turning the safeties off his guns, Jongin rests his index fingers by the triggers and raises them up to shoulder level.

Fight or die trying.

 

 

 

  
It’s an honest-to-god battlefield. His staff is thrumming hot in his hand, the crystal constantly bright with magic as spells after spells are cast. It’s fucking hard, having to maintain defensive spells while casting offensive ones – the ground is covered in sigils while the air crackles with streaks of purple lightning and burns with tendrils of blue flame.

His lips are chapped and his mouth is dry, unfortunate consequences of needing to recite spell after spell under his breath. The tougher the spell, the more he has to focus on the incantations – after decades of practices, he’s learned to cast most spells without incantations, but spells used for battle? Definitely not.

There’s a brief sweep of soft feathers against his cheek, and Sehun glances to the side to see a dozen or so angels soar towards the frontlines, weapons forming in their grasps with a shimmer and buzzing with energy. He spots Jongdae among them, his halo left behind.

A werewolf swerves just in time to avoid crashing right into Sehun, charging straight ahead before veering off to rejoin its pack. Sehun watches for a heartstopping moment as a handful of silver bullets catches the wolf right in its flank – it goes down with a pained howl, legs twitching until it stills in death.

Swallowing, Sehun forces himself to refocus. The sky darkens, the air cracks, and Sehun refuses to think about the number of bodies that the dozens of lightning bolts he sent smashing into the ground has just claimed.

 

 

 

  
It’s well into the night by the time he finally gives in to the exhaustion that’s been creeping up on him like vines. They wind tight around his throat and burrow deep into his ribcage, only willing to let go once Sehun recharges. He hands his post over to his second-in-command, a young, talented woman by the name of Mathilda. She’s got a fire in her that has always piqued Sehun’s interest, and he knows everyone else is in good hands.

He manages to get a solid seven minutes of rest before the doors burst open and Ophelia’s stumbling in, Jongin draped over her back as if he weighs nothing more than a sack of feathers.

“Help,” she rasps, knees buckling once she gets to Sehun’s side. She’s got a wound in her side, the edges glowing a telltale blue – UV weapons. Sehun reaches out to her, but she shakes her head and shoves an unconscious Jongin bodily onto him.

“Help _him_.”

Harried, Sehun rolls Jongin over onto his back, ignoring how the vampire’s blood is slowly blooming out across the tiled floor. He yanks the man’s tailored trenchcoat off his shoulders and promptly shudders at the sight.

“Fuck,” he mutters, staring at the array of wounds Jongin has all down his torso. Deep gashes, bullet holes, even a few puncture wounds courtesy of arrows. Every single one of them is glowing, the light visible even through the deep crimson of blood.

He gets to work instantly, praying that he has enough magic left to at least close the wounds. Vanishing Jongin’s shirt with a snap of his fingers, he instructs Ophelia to track down a few bags of blood.

“Get one or two for yourself as well,” he adds. “I might not be able to get to you for a while.”

She disappears down the stairs, and Sehun blocks out the chaos that’s occurring outside in favour of focusing on sucking the UV out of Jongin’s blood and closing the wounds. He doesn’t have enough magic in him to stitch torn muscle and set broken bones, but Jongin can do that by himself once he gets some fresh blood inside him.

By the time half the wounds are tended too, Jongin begins to stir.

“Lay still,” Sehun murmurs, sweat beading on his brow as he works on a laceration by Jongin’s navel. A groan stutters out of Jongin’s throat, hoarse and dry, and Sehun is alarmed by how pale the man’s lips are when he finally chance a glance up.

He’s not working fast enough. The UV is poisoning the vampire’s blood, and if he doesn’t get most of it out in the next few minutes, Jongin will likely die.

Where’s Ophelia?

“You’re running out of magic,” Jongin croaks. “Don’t push yourself.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sehun retorts. “Shut up and focus on slowing your heartbeat. The UV is –”

“I could only find one bag,” Ophelia cries, sprinting back into the room. “I called for more from the coven, but –”

Sehun looks up at her, at her wound, and drags his bottom lip through his teeth. “You take it. It’ll slow down the poisoning.”

“What? No, Jongin needs it –”

“Jongin can feed off me.”

He can feel both of the vampires’ stares on the crown of his head, but he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed, not when there are a handful of wounds left and not enough magic. Blessedly, the pair of them stays silent as Sehun works – somehow, Sehun manages to draw on enough magic to clean Jongin’s blood of UV. Closing the wounds would be impossible at this point, but as he collapses next to the vampire, Sehun thinks he did a bloody good job.

“Bite,” he mutters, eyes already falling shut against the exhaustion. It’s a struggle even to keep them open.

“I can’t, you need –”

“You need it more than I do, because they need you out there. I can’t fight for a little while regardless; just get me on a transfusion when more blood arrives.”

“But –”

“Oh for fuck’s sakes, Jongin. This is bigger than either of us. You need to heal up and you need to get back out there, do you understand me? You’re one of our best fighters, and we need you to keep the rest of us alive to see the next day.”

It’s clear that Jongin wants to continue arguing, but Sehun glares at him until pale lips part and inch closer to his neck. He glimpses Ophelia’s expression over Jongin’s shoulder as fangs pierce his skin – it’s a mix of amazement and bewilderment, and it’s the last thing he sees before his vision swims and goes black.

 

 

 

  
A dragon lets out an ear-splitting roar and Jongin moves out of the way in the nick of time. A steady stream of fire rockets past him, singeing the tips of his hair and turning a line of trees into piles of ash that blend perfectly into the scorched earth.

They’ve been at battle for over eighteen hours now. The sun is high in the sky, providing them with the light they need to see that the humans are finally retreating to regroup. It’s by no means a victory – they have dozens of their own to bury and many more wounds to heal, and probably not enough time to prepare themselves for the next attack.

He ends up falling into step with a battered Kyungsoo as they head back into the building.

“How many did you lose?”

“Enough to hurt morale,” Kyungsoo sighs, wincing with every step. Jongin wouldn’t be surprised if the soles of the man’s foot are shredded and bloodied. “Those fucking weapons.”

“Yeah,” Jongin finds himself agreeing. Kyungsoo tosses him a look.

“Heard you almost died.”

“Yep. Those fucking weapons.”

Jongin half expects Kyungsoo to insult him, but the man simply snorts and walks away towards the stairs with a flick of his fingers in farewell. It’s a little unnerving, but Jongin figures it’s a nice change.

“Hey.”

Ophelia’s leaning against the doorway to Sehun’s office, looking haggard but otherwise alive and well.

“Hey. How’s he doing?”

“Woke up not long ago, so I’ll be going now.” She walks over, pats Jongin on the shoulder with an air of _I-know-something-you-don’t_ , and heads right out the front door.

Jongin frowns after her in confusion, shaken out of his reverie only by Jongdae’s yell echoing up the stairs. Ah, the angel must have found out where Minseok has been hiding this whole time (the pantry).

He heads into Sehun’s office and is instantly welcomed by dim lights and the faint scent of cherry blossoms. The latter is definitely Ophelia’s doing – she likes to infuse rooms with that particular scent, saying it reminds her of her birthplace.

“How’re you feeling?”

Sehun’s standing by his bookshelf, nose buried in a dusty old tome as he squints at lines of (probably) horrible font. Scattered across the coffee table are empty bags of blood.

“Alright, for the most part. You?”

“Good, entirely thanks to you.”

At that, Sehun peels his eyes off the page and looks over at him. “Yeah, you look like you’re feeling fine. No pain anywhere, I hope?”

“None, don’t worry.” Jongin sinks down onto the couch, enjoying the familiar comfort of the cushions, the room, the company. “What are you doing?”

“There’s this defensive spell I can’t quite seem to remember,” Sehun answers, flipping furiously through the pages. “It’ll really help, but not if I can’t find the bloody spell.”

As Sehun works at hunting down the spell, Jongin spends the time studying the other man. Over the past few weeks, he’s had the privilege of witnessing Sehun in situations that, if their relationship had remained solely professional, he would never have been privy to. Now, seeing Sehun clad in nothing but sweatpants and fuzzy socks, hair loosely tucked behind his ears and his own unique sigil branded over his heart, sends a curl of warmth seeping deep into Jongin.

He still remembers the conversation they had just a few days after their new arrangement. They were lying on the floor, a thick rug beneath them for some comfort, and Jongin found his gaze drawn to the thin, white lines imprinted onto Sehun’s skin.

“My sigil,” Sehun said, letting Jongin trace over the intricate design. “Each mage has a different one – it’s sort of like a birthmark and a trademark all in one. They help amplify our magic, so we use them for complex spells.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some of the other mages with theirs on their hands.”

“It’s common to find them on hands and arms since magic usually flows in that direction. I don’t know anyone else with theirs on their body like mine is.”

Sehun’s chest rose and fell beneath Jongin’s hand, and Jongin was able to tell when his breathing slowed and his heart calmed. He’d leaned over, pressed his lips to the centre of the sigil, and heard the hitch in Sehun’s breath as clear as day.

Shaking the memory out of his mind, Jongin opens his mouth to ask the one question that’s been bugging him all day.

“How did you know I would be able to stop?”

Sehun doesn’t even look up from his book.

“I believe I know you well enough to trust that you would,” he answers, putting the book away and picking up another. “Besides, we’ve had enough practice for me to know that you are entirely capable of controlling yourself.”

“Not under that circumstance,” Jongin points out.

“Faith,” Sehun says with an easy lift of his shoulder. All of a sudden, Jongin gets the urge to kiss him, but he forces it down and closes his eyes instead.

 

 

 

  
They walk in companionable silence, Sehun keeping an eye on the other mages as they reinforce the security charms around the perimeter. Yixing has elected to join him, the elf without his bow and arrows for once as he keeps up with the other.

“You seem a lot brighter lately,” Yixing comments, batting away a bug that’s threatening to enter his mouth.

“Brighter doesn’t seem like an appropriate word, given our circumstances.”

“I know you know what I mean.”

Sehun gives his friend an amused look. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I guess you could say that I found a way to relieve my stress.”

“Good,” Yixing says firmly. “I was worried for you, you know? All you did was work, plus having to deal with the bullshit the humans would give you… well, I always wondered how you found the will to keep waking up in the morning. Whatever you’re doing, you should keep it up.”

“I’m sleeping with Jongin,” Sehun says casually. Yixing trips over air and almost slams his face into a tree trunk. “What?”

“You’re – what?!”

“Sex helps with stress.”

Yixing doesn’t quite know how to respond to that.

 

 

 

  
Word comes from Junmyeon a couple of weeks later: in an attempt to blindside them, the humans had sent troops out deep into the water. But having failed to anticipate the degree of retaliation by the mers and their aquatic allies, the humans suffered a major blow to their numbers and their plan. So here they are, creeping back up the jagged sides of the hill, where Minseok and his men are the first to lay eyes on them.

Hungry for souls, the demons surge forward with the sole intent to kill and consume. A cloud of poison settles over the fringes of the forest – the rest of the Coalition’s army stay beneath the mages’ protective force-fields as they watch the demons wreak havoc.

Ever the selfish race, the demons retreat once they’ve gotten their fill, leaving the rest with the responsibility of seeing the battle through to the end.

“Could be worse,” Jongin murmurs into Sehun’s ear as he stares after Minseok’s retreating back. The demon looks positively delighted. “At least the poison lingers.”

“Whatever, we don’t need their help,” Sehun mutters. The hairs on his neck rise instantly when Jongin laughs, soft huffs of air igniting all sorts of tingles across his skin.

“I suppose you’re right,” Jongin acquiesces, loading his rifle and taking a few steps forward. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Stay safe,” before he steps out of the force-field and sprints into the treeline, the other vampires hot on his heels.

Sehun tells himself that the weather is just warmer than usual, but he knows that’s just a load of crap. Ignoring the blush that’s threatening to creep up to the tips of his ears, he clears his throat and focuses on the battle – there won’t be anything to make excuses for if they’re all dead.

This battle runs a little differently. Sehun finds himself up at the front, confident that his defensive spells will remain potent even as he pools most of his magic into offensive spells. He’s also able to keep an eye on his allies this way, casting quick protective spells or covering their backs whenever necessary.

He’s a devastating force to deal with, if he can say so himself. Ranged attacks keep the enemy away and take down multiple individuals at once. As long as he’s able to keep his force-field up (to nullify bullets), he’s virtually invincible.

Everything goes well for a while – then Sehun witnesses something that rattles his world.

See, the thing is: force-fields are only impenetrable if the mage’s focus is constant and if the energy source is maintained. Energy is required to uphold the force-field if it’s under attack – the bigger the projectile, the more energy is needed.

So when he sees a missile heading right for the roof, his heart plummets deep into the depths of the earth.

The elves are up there, providing the rest of them with amazing backline support. They’re kept safe with the help of half a dozen mages and a few faes, but even with all that power, they’ll be sitting ducks. The force-field simply won’t hold.

Sehun doesn’t hesitate, not when there are so many lives at risk, not when Yixing’s up there, not when his people are up there. So he taps into all the magic that he has inside of him and sends the biggest sphere of pure energy up into the air, right into the path of the missile – what happens next, he doesn’t quite know.

 

 

 

  
The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the night sky. When his vision clears, he spots a few constellations. Then Yixing’s face swims into view.

“Oh my god, you’re awake.”

It’s hard to breathe, much less move. So Sehun continues staring up at his friend, very aware of the fact that he’s surrounded by people. Someone approaches him, footsteps soft and careful.

“Sir.” It’s Mathilda. “Do you remember what happened?”

God, even shaking his head feels like running a marathon.

“You Transcended, sir.” She gestures impatiently at someone.

Sehun blinks at her, brain a glob of mush in his skull. What did she just say?

Yixing moves out of view, and his face is replaced by a few other mages’. Soon, green light spills into the air around him, and Sehun feels the soreness and pressure in his bones gradually start to ease.

Gentle fingers bury themselves in his hair. “You saved us all, and I mean that quite literally.” Yixing pauses, as if trying to figure out the best way of relaying what he wants to say. “The missile deactivated once it passed through that sphere of energy; it fucked up the building – I’m really sorry, but I think your office is in shambles – but no one was killed because of it. Then something sort of… took over you? There was so much lightning and electricity _everywhere_ , like your magic was no longer tethered to a single source inside you. You were invincible – none of their weapons could touch you. While they were busy panicking over how to deal with you, the rest of us took the chance to attack. They didn’t stand a chance.”

A straw is pressed to his lips, and Sehun sucks down enough water to fill a pond.

“The battle ended five hours ago, and they’re still retrieving their dead. They’ve already called for a ceasefire.”

Sehun shifts, his intentions clear, and Yixing immediately helps him sit up. The aftermath of the battle is clear: the first floor of the Coalition’s building, like Yixing said, is blown to fine rubble. There are large cracks in the earth and the trees that have managed to remain standing are split open, their bark scarred white.

A weak puff of wind caress his cheek and blows a lock of hair into his face – that’s when Sehun notices it. His hair is pure white now, from root to tip, a result of his Transcendence. A flicker of fear ignites in his belly, and Sehun hurries to rid himself of his shirt. There, stark against his skin, is a brand new scar running from the curve of his left shoulder to the last rib on his right, splitting his sigil right in half. He presses a finger to it; it doesn’t hurt, isn’t sore, but it might as well be an open wound.

He’s never been so scared in his life.

With a quivering hand, he reaches out and _prays_ – a second ticks by, then two, until finally, a small daisy flies into his palm. Yixing grips his shoulder, Mathilda lets out an audible gasp of relief, and Sehun feels sudden tears spring into his eyes.

“I need to –” He doesn’t bother finishing his sentence, springing up onto his feet and fighting through the sudden bout of dizziness as he runs towards the ruined building.

There, a sizeable group of vampires and werewolves (ah, the spoils of war!) are busy moving bigger pieces of rubble in an attempt to clear a path to a stairway. The bottom levels of the building are likely to be intact, and there are many legal documents and personal effects that can be salvaged.

Honestly, Sehun doesn’t exactly know why he decided to head in this direction. If it was peace and quiet he wanted, he should’ve gone deep into the woods. Yet, he finds himself here, watching as two rival species work together in order to get a job done.

“Sehun?”

Startled, Sehun looks around to see Ophelia walking up to him.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been run over by a tank,” Sehun answers, wincing at the roughness of his voice.

She clicks her tongue in sympathy, and Sehun notices her gaze linger on his chest.

“Well, Jongin’s over there somewhere,” she says after a beat, pointing across all the stone and broken glass.

“But I didn’t –” Sehun licks his lips, brows furrowed. “Alright, thanks.”

Opehlia winks at him when he walks away, leaving Sehun more than a little baffled. He makes his way over slowly, every inch of him still feeling rather heavy, but the walk gradually helps clear his head.

When he gets to the other side of the building, however, he doesn’t see Jongin.

“Er, Jongin?”

No one answers, so he tries again.

“Jongin?”

Rubble shifts, and Sehun gets the living daylights scared right out of him when Jongin’s head pops up from beneath stone.

“What - what are you doing down there?”

“Looking for something,” Jongin grunts, shoving a large boulder out of the way. Sehun stares down at him and Jongin gazes right back, a moment of some sort only broken when someone in the distance yelps. With a pinched look on his face, Jongin hauls himself out of the hole he’d dug and brushes dirt off his hands.

“I thought you were dead, you know? When the battle was over, you hovered in midair for a moment before falling to the ground like a rag doll. I thought you –” He cuts himself off, sucks in a ragged breath, and digs around in his pocket. “Here.”

In his palm rests the snow globe that Jongin had given him all those weeks ago, weeks that blended into months that blended into something else entirely. There’s a tiny crack along the dome, but the dog inside is still happy and sakura petals are still falling.

“You’re bleeding,” is what Sehun ends up saying. The sleeve of Jongin’s shirt is ripped, and Sehun can see blood smeared across the man’s skin.

“Not anymore,” Jongin says. “It’s fine, it healed.”

Chewing on his lip, Sehun reaches out for the snow globe and finds himself flooded with a sense of relief that he did not expect. Out of everything he has in his office, he realises that this is the only thing he wanted to be safe.

“I thought you were _dead_ ,” Jongin repeats. “God, Sehun, did you even think about the risks?”

“No,” Sehun admits. “To be fair, I didn’t exactly want to Transcend. I had to do something to save them, and I did. Whatever happened after is another issue.”

“You –” Frustrated, Jongin rakes a hand through his hair, dislodging strands from the already messy bun piled high atop his head.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“ _Fine_ ,” Jongin echoes in disbelief. He steps closer and sweeps Sehun’s hair off his bare shoulder, touching the tip of the new scar with his index and middle fingers. “This is fine? Twenty inches of scarred skin is fine? Mathilda told me that if it was just a centimetre or two deeper, your heart would’ve been in shreds. Your other scars – you got those from pushing yourself too hard, didn’t you? I know magic is who you are, but I also know magic is entirely capable of killing you.”

“I couldn’t just let them die, Jongin. Even if it costs me my life, I would do it again.”

Jongin mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _stupid, selfless asshole_ , before he curls a hand around Sehun’s neck and yanks him in. It’s a bruising kiss, the metallic tang of blood landing on his taste buds before Jongin’s tongue sweeps it away.

The arm around his middle holds him tight and the hand cradling the base of his skull holds him close, as if Jongin’s afraid he might simply… float away.

Is it desperation that fuels the kiss? Sehun isn’t entirely sure. But it gradually softens out into an ache that can only be soothed by the contact of their mouths, so Sehun figures it doesn’t really matter.

They’re panting by the time they part for air.

“Don’t,” is the only word that Jongin utters.

“Okay,” Sehun replies, and rests his forehead on the curve of Jongin’s shoulder.

 

 

 

  
Life changes drastically after the war. The humans have reluctantly agreed to an armistice, and there are now new laws – actual, _enforced_ laws – that act to keep the mythics safe and their various cultures intact. The Coalition demanded for space and privacy: now, they have a large piece of land to call their own and an official border separating them from the humans.

It has taken months of hard work, but there’s finally enough stability and confidence for them to refer to themselves as a community. Minseok and the other demons have long since left for Hell, unhappy with the comparatively brief duration of the war and chaos. The angels stayed back to help the other mythical races settle into their newly acquired land, but as soon as everything seemed to be going smoothly, they left for home too. Someone has to keep an eye on the demons, after all. The dragons have taken it upon themselves to be the city’s border patrol, settling down around the city’s perimeter and spending most of their days in dragon form, lazing under the sun.

The Coalition headquarters relocates to the heart of their new city, a symbol of strength and hope to all. They no longer hide underground.

There are several things lost in the ruins of his old office that Sehun has been unable to replace, but as he looks around his new one, he finds that he’s perfectly content with how things are. The snow globe sits on his desk in its usual spot, although now it has a companion: the new snow globe is bigger, featuring a couple chasing each other through a shower of green and blue sparks. It’s cheesy as hell, but Sehun loves it.

Sunlight bounces off the surface of the lake, rippling when Sehun settles down by the bank and plunges his feet into the water. They’d made sure that the lake, although man-made, leads to the open sea. It gives the mers a sense of freedom that they haven’t had in ages.

A few seconds later and Junmyeon’s head pops up, the mer’s hair plastered to his cheerful face like frosting on a cake.

“Hi,” Sehun says, offering Junmyeon a bite of his burger. Junmyeon takes one, careful not to get water all over it. “How are things down there?”

“Good! We’re getting used to the fact that this is home now, you know? We’re _decorating_. You should come and visit after we’re happy with how it all looks.”

Sehun grins and polishes off the rest of his food, making sure to save the last pickle slice for Junmyeon.

“I will,” he promises, waving as Junmyeon swims off and dives back into the depths of the waters with a flick of his tail. It’s a beautiful day, Sehun muses, squinting out at the rapidly developing city. The buildings seem to shimmer in the light, every single one of them full of life, and while he’s alone by the edge of the water, he definitely doesn’t feel lonely.

The sound of footsteps reaches his ears, and he turns around to see Jongin heading straight for him, looking as put together as ever in his crisp suit. It’s hard to decide which Jongin he prefers – there’s something about the suits, fresh cologne, and messy-on-purpose bun, but there’s also something about the sweatpants, sleep-warm skin, and glasses. Luckily, he gets to see both on a daily basis.

“Hey,” Jongin says, helping Sehun up to his feet and watching as he casts a quick spell to dry them. “Cute toes.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, fond. “I’m glad you think so.”

They have long since moved on from casual sex – somewhere along the way, Jongin had realised that he wanted more than just sex on Sehun’s office couch whenever he needed some stress relief. But that particular problem seemed so trivial in the grand scheme of things, and he didn’t have the chance to suggest taking things further until after Sehun’s near-death experience.

By that point, Sehun had come to rely on him in more ways than just carnal pleasure. Jongin was his pillar of support, a source of peace, a reason to fight. When there was nothing left to fight for, Jongin became a reason to believe. So standing there amongst all the rubble with that little snow globe in his hand, lips kissed bruised, Sehun asked him for something more.   
  
They’re still figuring out what exactly ‘something more’ entails, but Sehun doesn’t think it’s important, not when they get to wake up next to each other with their legs tangled in the sheets and trading sleepy smiles that inevitably lead to lazy morning sex.

Sehun still suffers through sleepless nights, but they occur less frequently and they’re much more tolerable when he gets kisses and cuddles through the night.

‘Something more’ is definitely something _and more_.

“How’d it go?”

The vampires and werewolves are attempting to fix what their ancestors have broken centuries ago, and the weekly meetings seem to be generating some decent outcomes. There’s definitely less animosity, and the younger members of each race are starting to develop friendships.

“Quite nice, actually. I longer feel like I want to run away the second I step foot into the room. Anyway, are you hungry? We can stop by your favourite deli before heading home.”

Their fingers seek each other out, instinctual and easy.

“Just ate, actually.”

“Home then,” Jongin declares, giving Sehun’s hand a squeeze. “We can spend a couple of hours in front of the TV before Oph comes over and ruins our quiet.”

Sehun glances at his ‘something more’ and nearly chokes on the fullness that wells up in his heart. A little overwhelmed, he stops walking in the middle of the road and pulls Jongin towards him, loving how the man’s lips part the second he leans in. He kisses him soft, sweet, and hums happily at the slide of Jongin’s tongue against his.

“What was that for?” Jongin asks, thumbing at the corner of Sehun’s mouth.

“For being you.”

 

 

 

  
They’re a mess of sweaty limbs, but all that matters is the completeness he feels from being buried deep inside Sehun and with Sehun’s presence inside his heart. He’s got the mage bent almost in half, calves thrown up over Jongin’s shoulders as he fucks into him nice and deep.

“Hey,” he pants, brushing strands of snow out of Sehun’s flushed face. “You know how much you mean to me, right?”

Sehun stares up at him, eyes glassy and lips bitten to hell and back. The scar around his neck flexes with each hitch of his breath or moan that leaves his throat – Jongin thinks it’s beautiful.

A jolt of electricity suddenly speeds through Jongin’s body, drawing a groan out of him and causing his hips to stutter.

“Tell me,” Sehun whispers, pulling Jongin closer and dragging blunt nails down the expanse of his back.

“Everything,” he says, eyes fluttering shut when Sehun drags the flat of his thumb across the tip of his fang. The touch is light, but every ounce of Jongin’s being is so attuned to Sehun and his magic that even his fangs are sensitive to the man’s touch. “You’re what makes the sun rise in the morning and the reason behind the brightness of the stars. Fuck, you are everything.”

If Sehun’s magic goes a little haywire when they hit their climaxes, neither one seems to notice. Afterwards, however, Jongin rests his head on Sehun’s lap and surveys the mess in the room – the bed itself is completely out of position, not to mention the bedside tables and the loveseat that’s supposed to be tucked away in the corner. Even their clothes, usually safe behind closed closet doors, have been dragged into the fray.

“You know, I really think we should consider securing our furniture to the floor, especially if this happens again.”

“Or you could just let me show off,” Sehun says, and promptly moves everything back into their original places with a few lazy flicks of his fingers.

“I could,” Jongin agrees, pulling one of Sehun’s hands over to plant a kiss on his fingertips.

“Love you,” Sehun mumbles, so quietly that if it weren’t for Jongin’s heightened hearing, he wouldn’t have caught it at all.

It’s hard to fight down the smile that threatens to show, so Jongin doesn’t even bother trying. But he knows that Sehun is probably having an internal panic attack – something like this surely means a lot to him, even if he denies it –, judging by the tensing of his thighs and the stillness of his fingers in Jongin’s hair.

So he keeps calm, stays nonchalant, and says a simple, “I love you too,” in response.

The next thing he sees is a sakura petal falling onto Sehun’s knee, just centimetres away from his face. That lone petal is joined by others until Jongin finds himself lying beneath a cloud of pink.

“Sorry,” Sehun says, sounding horribly embarrassed. “It wasn’t on purpose, I just –”

“It’s okay,” Jongin interrupts with a soft laugh, scooping up a handful of petals and letting them trickle through his fingers. “It’s perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Details, details.

List of Mythical Creatures

  1. Mermaids; converses with aquatic life, manipulates bodies of water, skin always has to stay damp (backline fighters).
  2. Dragons; flight, transformation, claws even when in human form, breathes fire in dragon form.
  3. Vampires; bright blue irises + dilated to compensate for low light sensitivity (heightened night vision), unretractable fangs, able to survive off animal blood, decelerated aging, flight, superhuman strength, wounds heal on their own if blood is not compromised, can deal with sunlight, but weak to UV weapons (like selene in underworld), immortal IF constantly consuming blood (e.g. mika in owari no seraph).
  4. Werewolves; transformation, weaker when in human form, can change at will after first full moon, enhanced speed + strength + senses in wolf form, regenerative healing, weak to pure silver, decelerated aging, not immortal, their wolf form resembles dire wolves (but much bigger).
  5. Faes (fairies); invisibility, healing, enhanced senses, wings/flight, deception/illusions (this race is not inclined for battle).
  6. Elves; excellent archers, tall, superhuman agility + reflexes (backline fighters).
  7. Angels; weapon creation – holy magic imbued, immortal, flight/wings, energy manipulation, superhuman strength, weak to demons (angels cannot die, but they can be severely wounded).
  8. Demons; sharp black nails, poison, weapon creation – dark magic imbued, strength dependent on soul absorption, pain inducement (mental manipulation makes it feel like one is experiencing true pain), enhanced resistance to physical damage, weak to angels + magic, semi-immortality (depending on # souls consumed, killable by angels).
  9. Mages; scrying, spell casting (for buffs, debuffs, etc), force-field generation, magic combat (examples: scarlet witch, piper halliwell), staffs/wands not necessary but they help focus magic at a more specific point/target, sigils are used to magnify their magic, stronger magic requires more energy, not all witches/sorcerers can perform healing magic (back/frontline depending on type of magic), each mage has a type of magic that they're more attuned to (e.g. sehun's is electricity manipulation). 



* * *

Appearances (in order of their mythical race as seen above): just hair colours and style + eye colours!

  1. [Junmyeon](http://wanilmith.tumblr.com/post/169869213905/aaaaaaah-risen-chrom-grima-robin-again) (the one on the left/blue hair)
  2. [Chanyeol](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/176883406882/bev-nap-drawing-baechou-at-3-am-for-dirtylevi)
  3. [Jongin](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/177655042857/shys-art-side-colour-study)
  4. [Kyungsoo](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/177895503072/tsukareta-levi-art-by-%E3%83%9E%E3%83%84%E3%83%90%E3%82%AD-posted-with)
  5. [Baekhyun](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/176882960872) (the one on the right) 
  6. [Yixing](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/177802374962/fatiglow-happy-birthday-to-best-girl-its)
  7. [Jongdae](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/173619840897/venquian-allen-walker-i-really-wanted-my-first)
  8. [Minseok](http://gusajeu.tumblr.com/post/177858113822/frothystars-i-keep-forgetting-to-upload-this-here) (the one in front)
  9. [Sehun](http://so-xu.tumblr.com/post/166198890543/so-xu-sunday-is-bun-day-d-requested-in) + [staff](https://lolwallpapers.net/wallpaper/12618) (minus the fin-type things) + [sigil](https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/234/809/large/john-bridges-roth-designs002.jpg?1459098147) (the one on the far left) 



* * *

 

Other Tidbits

  1. Transcendence happens when a mage draws on so much power that a bit of their own lifeforce is used to sustain the magic – they're going beyond their physical limitations. This results in the scars that you see on Sehun + the stripping of melanin in hair. Mages can die from Transcending. 
  2. [This](http://trueblood-dallas.wikidot.com/vampire:creation) is how I imagine vampires are changed/created.
  3. The kind of battle mage I envisioned Sehun to be is the kind you'd see in video games (I based it off a mobile game I'm playing haha). Not so much Harry Potter-style, although there may be similarities (e.g. wandless magic). 
  4. Vampires don't need to sleep, but they can sleep if they want to. 
  5. Mages are not immortal! They age normally like any other human – so what happens to sekai when Sehun's old... I leave up to your imagination :P



**Author's Note:**

> I did add more drama as opposed to the fluff you wanted, but I hope this was to your liking ♡  
> Thank you for the, ah, request. :P
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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